


kiss the sky

by UchiHime



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [7]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Sam Wilson, Baking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Kissing, M/M, Mpreg, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Child Character, Nudity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Strip Poker, boys in panties, fluff mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small collection of Marvel ficlets from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Steve

Sam likes kissing. Especially when there’s no pressure. When both parties know that it isn’t foreplay or anything other than just two people being close and feeling good.

He loves kissing Steve. Loves the way Steve’s breath hitches and he clings to Sam like he’s drowning. Loves how he can go from shy to filthy in a matter of seconds. He loves the lazy kisses, slow moving lips, languid tongues, sharing air more than saliva. The ones where Steve’s hands are rubbing his back or just holding his hips and they’re tangled together with no plans to move anytime soon. Steve usually has a sleepy smile an utter adoration in his eyes and they’re both warm and happy and Sam would be content to stay like this forever.

But, he also loves the hot kisses. The ones where they’re trying to devour each other. There’s too much tongue and teeth and Steve makes these keening noises that feel like electricity under Sam’s skin. Steve touches him everywhere, hot hands clinging to shoulders and hips and anywhere else they can reach. Steve rocks against his body and gasps and Sam nibbles at his neck. He looks like he’s going to vibrate right out of his skin, and Sam loves it. Loves that he put that passion in Steve’s eyes, loves that he’s the one to making this beautiful man come undone.

The first time Steve gets hard while they’re kissing, he freaks out. He blushes and starts apologizing profusely and tries to pull himself away from Sam. They’re too tangled up for him to get very far and he can’t meet Sam’s eyes until Sam grabs his shoulders and say, “Steve, it’s okay.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, “I said I would respect your boundaries…”

Sam grabs Steve’s hand and presses it against his crotch, Steve’s words sputters out when he realizes Sam is just as hard as he is. “Just cause I’m not down for getting down don’t mean my body doesn’t respond to the right kind of stimulus. I’m not going to run for the hills just because you get a little excited, it’s a natural response to the situation.”

Steve relaxes and moves his hand away from Sam’s crotch to rest on his hip instead. “I just didn’t want you to feel pressured.” He admits earnestly. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

Sam smiles. “Don’t get it wrong, Steve, I’m happy that you’re trying to respect my boundaries. But you gotta trust that I’ll let you know what those boundaries are. Alright?”

Steve smiles back and rubs his thumbs over the curves of Sam’s hipbones. “Alright.”

“Good. Now, can we get back to the kissing? I really like that part.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky/Sam/Nat

Bucky was seated on the floor, reclined against the couch, legs spread wide around their new box fan. It’s one of the hottest days of the year, so of course it was the day the air conditioner went on the fritz. Bucky was wearing nothing but pair of striped boxers. His lips were stained red from the half-melted cherry popsicle in his left hand. The fingers of his right hand idly tapping against the couch as he sang softly to himself.

Sam was in a similar state of undress: clothed only in satin panties with a lace garter belt attached to them. It was too hot for stockings, so the garter straps laid against Sam’s thighs, not attached to anything. He was lying on his stomach on the couch, with his legs in the air, feet tapping against the air right above Bucky’s reclined head. He was chewing on the wooden stick that had once held his banana popsicle, and reading a book. There was a small desk fan balance on the arm of the couch by his head.

Natasha had forgone clothes altogether, opting instead to lay starfished out in the center of the floor, naked as the day she was born. She’d said her blood ran too hot for this, she was built for Russian winters, not these horrible American summers. Her red hair was spread out around her head, she having complained that it was too hot for it to be against her skin. Two rotating fans that sprayed mist were angled towards her, coating her pink skin in a sheen of water. She was fast asleep.

Steve was in an armchair by their open window. He wore a tank top and boxers and didn’t seem as bothered by the heat as the rest of them. His sketchpad was open in his lap, but he was spending more time staring out the window than drawing. Every now and again, he’d glanced around at the three other occupants of the room and smile. Despite the high temperatures, it was a pretty nice day.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky/Clint

Nearly dying is fucking exhausting, and Clint really should be used to by now, but he’s not even though he thought he was. It’s a cold and jaded man who has a near death experience and shrugs it off with a sarcastic “must be Tuesday.” But that is exactly the man Clint was until just recently. 

Until recently, Clint’s life could be summed up as: SHIELD mission, crash, Avengers mission, crash, fight Russian jumpsuit mobsters, eat pizza, walk dog, drink coffee, SHIELD mission, lather rinse repeat. Not exactly what one would call “living” so nothing really to miss by dying.

And then Bucky fucking Barnes had happened. Or, more aptly: and then he’d started fucking Bucky Barnes. And what had started off as a “mutually beneficial arrangement for the resolution of coital needs” had turned into “wanna hang out, eat pizza and watch movies” which had led to a moment of “holy shit, I really like this guy” which had eventually morphed into “I love the fuck out of this man” and then nearly dying had made it all come to a head as “if I die without this man knowing that he was my entire world, then I wasted my life.”

And it was that last thought that had led to this moment. Clint was sitting in medical, getting patched up, and giving Hill an informal debriefing. He was tired and aching and the doctors were denying him the good drugs and half the shit coming out of his mouth would be left out of the official report. “…and that was the moment I realized I want to marry Bucky Barnes, and that if I survived and didn’t marry him, there would be no worth to my life,” he said. 

Hill arched a single eyebrow at that statement, and Clint was just going to continue on with his report, but a voice behind him cut him off. “Not the most romantic of proposals, but how can I say no to the ernesty?”

Clint froze. Of course Bucky fucking Barnes had heard all of that. That was just Clint’s luck. “Clint,” Bucky said, moving into his line of vision with a playful smile already on his lips, “I was just teasing.”

“I wasn’t,” Clint admitted, because now was not the time for taking the easy way out. Now was the time to grab on to life and love with both hands and never let go. “I want to marry you.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky asked, audible shock in his tone.

“Dead serious. I’ll buy a ring and get down on one knee, or fucking write it in the sky if I have to. Take out an ad in the newspaper and say James Buchanan Barnes, I never want another day to pass without you knowing how much you mean to me. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

“You’re serious,” Bucky repeated as if those were the only two words left in his mind.

“You don’t have to say yes, just because I asked.”

That seemed to startle Bucky out of his stupor, “Like hell I don’t have to say yes! You know how long I been trying to workout how to ask you just this fucking thing? Now you said it, so no take backs! If didn’t look like the only thing holding you together was those bandages, I’d drag you to the altar right now.”

And this time it was Clint only able to think of two words, “You’re serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Clinton Francis Barton, you’re a lot smarter than you pretend to be, so you gotta know how much I fucking love you. Marrying you would be the greatest joy of my life.”

Everything about Bucky screamed honesty and excitement and Clint did not doubt for a second that he meant what he was saying. If every part of his body wasn’t resonating pain, Clint would have hopped right into Bucky’s arms. Because he fucking loved this man and he was going to spend the rest of his life at his side.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky/Clint

Clint pulls on the first shirt he sees and it only occurs to him that it’s not his own when it slides down his shoulder. Bucky’s broader in the shoulders than Clint his, so most of his shirts are baggy on the archer, but a shirt is a shirt and Clint is too coffee-deprived to care. His brain is telling him ‘go the coffee pot. Go directly to the coffee pot. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.’ 

“Use a mug!” Someone, Bucky probably, calls out as Clint practically sleepwalks to the kitchen. Clint lets out a noncommittal noise, because the little voice in his head specifically said do not collect  ~~$200~~  a coffee cup and Kate has been telling him to use his brain more, so whatever.

He chugs half the coffee straight from the pot, it’s lukewarm and has some coffee grains in it and Clint would care but (sweet mother of mercy) caffeine! There are few things in the world better than caffeine.

“I said use a mug.” Yep, that’s Bucky standing there arms crossed and disapproving. He’s shirtless and sweaty and has his hair up in a sloppy bun and Clint lets out a low noise of appreciation, because post-workout Bucky Barnes is one of the few things in the world better than caffeine. It’s topped only by post-orgasm Bucky Barnes, and mid-orgasm Bucky Barnes, and wielding-knives-and-other-deadly-weapons Bucky Barnes, and… okay, there are many versions of Bucky Barnes that are better than caffeine, but you’ll never hear Clint say that out loud.

Bucky blushes just a little bit under heat of Clint’s appreciative gaze, and yeah blushing Bucky Barnes is definitely one of Clint’s top 10 favorite Bucky Barnes. Clint casually takes another drink from the pot and Bucky let’s out a huff that’s more fond than annoyed. He steps around Clint and turns on the _other_ coffee pot (that shitty single-serving non-coffee flavors having kind that Clint refuses to touch.)

Clint sets down his coffee pot and shuffles over to Bucky. He plasters himself against the ex-soldier’s back, presses his face into his neck, and wraps his arms around his waist. “Good morning,” he mumbles, lips moving against Bucky’s sweat salty skin.

Bucky lets out an amused noise, but obediently says, “Good morning, Clint.”

“Plans for the day?”

“Nothing too pressing.”

“Wanna spend the day in bed, eating marshmallows, and watching Dog Cops?”

Bucky turns around in Clint’s arms and wraps his own arms around the archer. “I can be convinced to join you for that, but I need a shower first.”

“I can be convinced to join you for that.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Bucky/Nat/Sam

The radio is playing Johnnie Taylor and Sam and Bucky make it a duet as they dance around, Sam in the kitchen frying frying something that smells like heaven for dinner while Bucky sits at the counter decorating the cake he’d baked earlier. Natasha’s folding laundry on the dining room table (they never eat in there anyway), and it’s Steve’s turn to clean the living room. 

Steve mumbles the background vocals to  _Last Two Dollars_  while he lifts the couch with one hand to vacuum under it. Natasha hums along as she folds one of Steve’s shirts and put it in her pajama pile (because let’s be honest, that’s what it’s going to be used for anyway). Bucky’s singing has stopped as all his concentration turns to carefully squeezing purple icing out of a pastry bag for whatever the design he’s doing on the cake. Sam is passionately sings the words to the song while masterfully chopping bell peppers.

 _Last Two Dollars_ turns into  _Sending You a Kiss_  and Sam winks at Bucky when their eyes meet. Bucky let’s out a sound that isn’t exactly a laugh but is definitely in the humored family, and blows him kiss.

“Whose are these?” Natasha asks, holding up a pair or blue lace boyshorts underwear. 

“Bucky’s,” Steve answers, now lifting up the loveseat and vacuuming under it.

Bucky shakes his head. “Those are Sam’s, mine’s got little ribbons on the side.” Natasha nods and add them to Sam’s pile. Between the three of them, there’s an alarming amount of lingerie in the house and it’s hard to keep up with it all.

Johnnie Taylor is replaced by Teddy Pendergrass and Natasha starts singing along to  _When Someone Loves You Back_. Steve starts singing along with her and soon all four of them were belting out the words and dancing around or swaying in place and just enjoying being together.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky/Clint. Background Steve/Nat/Sam.

Clint would like you to believe that he has the absolute worst poker face in history, but Clint is a dirty lying liar who lies. He’s also a spy and a cheat and Bucky wonders how he ever forgot that. 

Bucky thought he was sitting pretty with a pair of 5′s, because Clint had taken one look at his own cards and barely concealed a frown as he waited for the flop. Bucky honestly thought he was just too stupid to fold, calling every hand but never raising with his brow furrowed in annoyance as the turn was played. By time the river was dealt, everyone but Clint and Bucky had folded. Bucky was sure of his victory when his pair of 5 became a two-pair 5 over Queens with an ace kicker.

Clint had 4-of-a-kind Queens with an ace kicker and Bucky lost his shirt. Natasha cackled like a hyena as she shuffled the cards and dealt the next hand.

The moral of the story could be “don’t play poker with people who lie for a living” but all Bucky got out of it was “Clint is fucking ruthless and that is hot as hell.”

At the end of the night, Natasha is left in her bra and panties with one sock on, tipsy off shots of tequila and draped over Sam’s lap. Sam is only in his boxers and socks, but he’s smiling like he’s won the jackpot as he clanks his shot of Fireball against Nat’s tequila glass.

Steve is sockless and shirtless, he would be pantsless too if he wasn’t a stuffy old man who actually wore undershirts, but that’s Steve. He’s making eyes and Sam and Nat and Bucky has no doubt that his thoughts aren’t anywhere near family friendly. They all folded this hand, but Nat is working towards making Sam lose his boxers anyway. Clint, the jackass, has only lost his shoes.

And then there’s Bucky. His current hand is shit, a 5 and 7 that aren’t even the same suit. Common sense said he should fold, but he’d gotten a 6 at the flop and the “bad idea bear” in his mind told him to hold out hope for a straight. The turn uncovers a king and Clint, honest to god, grins like the cat who got the canary. It causes a stirring in a part of Bucky’s body that the room is about to become very familiar with.

It’s too late for Bucky to fold, by house rules, and this is it for him. He’s all in this hand. There’s no chance of getting the straight he he was hoping for and he can’t even delay the inevitable by cashing in his hair tie as clothes, because he’d done than three hands ago. 

The final card is a jack. Bucky doesn’t even bother revealing his hand as he pushes himself to his feet. Steve looks a bit embarrassed on Bucky’s behalf, but Natasha is wolf-whistling and Sam is chanting “take it off.” Clint, however, is completely silent but his eyes feel like a physical weight on Bucky’s body and there enough heat in them to make the world catch flame.

Bucky’s cock is unmistakingly hard as he dips his thumbs beneath the waistband of his briefs. His eyes are on Clint alone, the archer’s tongue slips out to moisten his lips, and then Bucky’s underwear are on the floor.

So, Bucky’s naked and hard in front of the whole room, and he’s ready to grab Clint and drag him to the nearest bed to pay the forfeit that his having his brains fucked out, but before he can move, Clint slowly lays his two cards face up on the table.

Clint’s hand was a 2, a 3, a 6, a king, and a jack. Or, a King High backed by a six.

Bucky’s hand was a 5, a 6, a 7, a king, and a jack. Or, a King High backed by a seven.

Bucky’s naked and hard in front of the whole room, ready to pay the forfeit on a hand that he had won. Because Clint Barton is a lie and a cheat and Bucky’s about to drag him to the nearest bed and fuck his brains out, because he’s ruthless and that is hot as hell.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Sam Mpreg.

“Let it be known,” Sam grumbled from his position slouched on the bathroom floor with one arm still hugging the toilet bowl, “barbecue does not taste as good the second time around.”

Steve frowned and handed Sam the glass of water he’d fetched for him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just peachy,” Sam said with obviously faked cheer; ‘obvious’ because it was impossible to be genuinely cheerful after spending five minutes hacking up last night’s half-digested ribs and beans, and what might have been the glob of bubblegum he’d swallowed three months ago. He took a sip from the glass and swished the water around in his mouth, before spitting it into the toilet bowl as well.

“You’re not okay,” Steve said and his tone was edging towards that “Captain America is concerned for all the citizens of the world” thing it did during press conferences and national crises.

“It was a stupid question so I gave you an equally stupid answer. No one is ever actually okay with spending their morning paying a tribute to the porcelain goddess.” He drank down the rest of the water and set the glass down next to him. “Hey, pass me the bleach, I might as well clean the toilet while I’m down here.”

Steve pursed his lips and crossed his arms. “You need to go to the doctor.”

“No,” Sam rebuttaled, “I need to scrub this toilet bowl. I’m not kidding, pass me the bleach.”

“Sam…”

“Steve,” Sam said, mimicking Steve’s tone and crossed arms.

“You’re sick and need a doctor, Sam.”

“I’m not sick and I don’t need a doctor.”

“You can’t sit there and say you’re feeling well. You just told me you’re not okay.”

“I’m not okay, but I’m also not sick.” Steve obviously wasn’t buying it and Sam let out a long sigh. “I saw a doctor last week, Steve. He said I am at the peak of health all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Steve repeated with a frown.

“All things considered, including my age, race, the high-risk nature of my current employment as a part-time superhero, and the fact that I’m pregnant. Yep, peak of health.”

All the color drained from Steve’s face in an instant. “You’re… pregnant?”

Sam hadn’t planned on telling him this way. He’d spent that last week trying to figure out just how to share the news and none of his imagined scenarios had included him sitting on the bathroom floor. 

In that second, Sam’s stomach lurched and the threw himself forward to once more bury his face in the toilet bowl. There was nothing left to come up but that horrid yellow bile, but that didn’t stop his stomach from heaving. Sam wouldn’t have been surprised if a lung or his entire digestive system decided to spill from his mouth giving how hard his stomach was working to empty all of him. With a twinge of disgust, he realized each heave of his stomach was accompanied by his bladder squeezing and him pissing himself a little bit. 

Steve was now sitting behind him, rubbing Sam’s back and mumbling nonsense into his ear and Sam half wanted to push him away, because this was Steve’s fault, but more than that he wanted his boyfriend to hold him before he ended up sobbing into the toilet bowl. Because puking and pissing your pants was not anyone’s idea of a good time.

“Pregnant,” Steve said again was Sam’s heaving had turned to less painful hitching.

“Surprise,” Sam said tonelessly. The look of utter delight on Steve’s face was almost worth all the puke, piss, and tears.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Sam, kid fic.

There’d been a public outrage when Steve had married Sam. An interracial gay marriage, how do we explain this to our children? How dare Captain America refute the image history had created for him by marrying someone who wasn’t an All-American girl who voted Republican and had traditional family values?

Of course, after Falcon helped the Avengers save the world a couple times, the media was back to singing him praises and commenting on how “cute” he and Steve were together. There was nothing but good things said when Steve and Sam brought home their son, Ian.

Ian was four years old the first time the paparazzi snapped a picture of him in a dress. And, as luck would have it, Ian was in the middle of a crying fit when the picture was taken, so that just fueled the flames. Oh the horror. The scandal! The headlines! “Capt. America and Falcon: Abusive Parents?”, “Red, White and Pink: Super Family Outrage”, “Are Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson trying to turn their son into a girl?”, “Ian Rogers Publically Humiliated, his parents force him to wear dresses!”, “No Child’s Heroes.”

Within twenty-four hours, Steve and Sam had gone from beloved heroes and cutest couple in America, to the worst parents in the world. But they’d been preparing for such backlash since the first time Ian had seen Easter dresses on display in a shop window and had looked at them with such awe and hope, there was no refusing him one. 

Sam had helped him into the dress and Steve had tied the bow and buckled his Mary-Janes, and Ian had looked at himself in the mirror and actually cried over how pretty he was. To hell with what the media had to say, if a simple dress could make their kid that happy. They held their heads up high and never once let Ian believe there was anything wrong with him.

They gave only one interview about it. “Our son’s name is Ian. He likes playing catch and having tea parties. Sometimes he puts on his prettiest dress and we play dolls or go to the park to play tee-ball. He loves Dora the Explorer and Hawkeye is his favorite Avenger because daddies are not Avengers, they’re just daddies. 

“If you ask him if he’s a girl, he’ll call you silly and say ‘of course I’m not’ but if you ask him if he’s a boy, he’ll frown and look unsure and say ‘I think I am.’ Because everyone tells him he’s a boy, so that has to be the right answer. We tell him he’s our son, but he’s also our little princess. And that if he doesn’t want to be a boy, he doesn’t have to be, but that doesn’t mean he has to be a girl instead. Right now, he’s alright with being a boy, but one day that might change. What won’t change is the fact that we love him unconditionally and just want him to be happy.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam/Bucky

It’s some ungodly hour of the night and they’re baking, because Bucky had had a nightmare and Sam was still very much that little boy from Harlem who’d been told by mom and granny both “eating won’t fix your problems, but it sure as hell won’t make them any worse.” Sam had grew to be not a stress-baker, but a boredom-baker and there were few better things to do at 3am when he was trying to keep Bucky’s mind off nightmares and forgotten memories.

Usually they made cookies, but Sam had thought Bucky would like something different this time. “Quick and dirty cobbler,” he explains, handing Bucky a can of cherry pie filling to open. Bucky didn’t like the electric can opener, and Sam had yet to replace the manual one that he’d broken months ago, so Bucky stabs the lid of the can with one of his military grade knives and saws his way around it. Sam’s not a big fan of watching this process, so he turns his attention to cutting the stick of butter that needs to go in the microwave.

Bucky tries to hand Sam the open can of pie filling, but Sam shakes his head. “Just dump it,” He says, pointing to the empty glass baking dish on the counter. “And open the cake mix.”

Bucky is careful about emptying the can into the dish, taking the time to make sure the cherries and filling are evenly spread across the bottom and as much as possible is scraped from the walls of the can. “Eggs?” Bucky asks once he’s emptied the whole can and has turned his attention to the cake mix.

“Nope,” Sam says. The microwave dings just as Bucky empties the yellow cake mix into it’s designated bowl. Sam takes the now melted butter and pours into the bowl with the mix. He hands Bucky a spoon. “Just stir.”

Forty minutes later, they’re leaning against the kitchen island, because both were too tired put the extra effort into pulling back a chair and sitting down. Bucky has a smudge of vanilla ice cream on the corner of his mouth and he’s licking the sticky cherry residue off his metal fingers and Sam comes to the very sudden and earth stopping realization that he is without a doubt, completely and utterly in love with Bucky Barnes.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr.](http://littleredtriskele.tumblr.com)


End file.
